“Where were you in the hospital? Didn’t you have a nurse named Blair?”

I still get a lot of people who talk to me about being in the hospital. That or I’ll log into some social networking site or email account I forgot I even had and find a message or two waiting for me about how someone was thinking about me that day and they wanted to know I was alright and they’re still praying for me.

Which, I gotta tell you, feels pretty incredible. You want to seriously make someone’s day, leave them a random message somewhere they’ll maybe-possibly-but-maybe-not one day see about how you were just randomly thinking about them. Nice. Very nice. Also very random.

Point is, it’s not particularly rare that I get a message from someone about the hospital. It is however incredibly rare to get a text about one of the nurses at the same time.

I don’t quite know how to explain it. Imagine you’re falling. You have no idea how long you’ve been falling; you have no idea when you’re going to stop. You can’t quite focus on anything or anyone. There’s more air rushing through your head than actual thoughts. The only thing you’re remotely certain about is that when you stop falling it’s definitely going to not be good, except you’re not really sure about that either.

You don’t reach for a hand, but a hand still grabs you. At least you think. You can definitely remember a hand. It was definitely in yours. But it might be one of those fake rubber hands from a novelty store. Or a cleverly crafted pasta. Or play-doh. Pretty sure it’s a hand though.

When you stop falling, it’s bad, but not the kind of bad you thought it would be. The hand is gone, but if you close your eyes just right, you can feel it. Or you can hear a voice. Or picture a disembodied head. That hand, that voice, that head, those are connected to the most beautiful people you know.

And if there’s one thing I know, it’s beautiful people. Honestly, if you rounded up the top 1000 most beautiful people on the planet, I’d know way more than half. I seriously doubt I’ve ever even met someone who’s not on that list. So when I say “the most beautiful people you know,” I know what I’m talking about.

You mention one of the most beautiful people I know, and you’ve got my attention.

“I was at Baylor, but she left before I got out. She’s awesome, at least, what I remember about her.”

“Did she go to St Paul or Clements?”

“I thought it was Southwest something or other”

“Yeah, this is a UT Southwestern hospital. She apparently took care of my friend. They were talking about how great this Blair in ICU was. Gotta be the same one.”

“You should go to the ICU and find out when she works so I can go thank her in person.”

“Man. She’s here now. But I don’t have the balls or the people skills to do that”

“I don’t have the people skills, but if there’s 2 things I have, it’s balls.* Which hospital?”

“Clements. Wait, so you went up to Baylor to thank her, and she was gone so you never got to?”

“Right, she left right after I got out.”

“Oh man, this could be a Disney moment!!” **

“Shut up and tell me what floor to go to.”

“You’re coming? Now?”

“Of course I am, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh my gosh, haha. Hope it’s the same Blair.”

“Seriously, you have no idea what floor?”

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You, as someone who has heard more than one of my stories, are thinking 3 things. First, “you totally didn’t say *,” and you’re correct. But it’s too funny to not put in the official transcript. Second, “your friend didn’t say **,” and you’re wrong. He most certainly did. I would also like to point out he used to work in the oil fields. A roughneck saying “gosh” and “Disney” in the same conversation. Yep, completely true.

Third, “it wasn’t the same Blair and you’ve told us this whole drawn out story only to completely crush our hopes and dreams because you’re a jerk-face who likes to play with the emotions of people who sincerely care for you.”

She walked up and said “I know you, right?”

“Not from here. I was your patient at Baylor, well, sort of.”

You want to seriously make someone’s day, leave them a random message somewhere they’ll maybe-possibly-but-maybe-not one day see about how you were just randomly thinking about them.

Or walk up to them a year and a half later at their new job and thank them publicly in front of their coworkers and your friends for saving your life. That works too.

Disney wishes he had my life. I’ll take it over an amusement park any day.